Page 29 of Highlander’s False Identity

“At least let’s get back onto the path!” he said, hoping to appeal to her commonsense. He gestured back to the track, which ran through the clanless, connecting it to the Duncan clan lands. It wasn’t far from the borderlands. If they persevered, they could make it.

Finally, Edme glanced around to look at him, as if finally thinking about what he said. Beathan, grateful at last that she had taken some notice of him, tried to speed up to reach her – but the girl simply tossed her head and rode faster.

“Nae, Edme, nae!” called Beathan, annoyed. It seemed as if she was determined to kill herself.

He steeled himself, he had been tasked with protecting her – not to mention the jewels she held in her knapsack – and he needed to step up!

Riding faster still, he tore through the darkening countryside; trees and hillside speeding past his head in a blur.

“Edme, come on. If ye willnae do it for me, do it for the horse! She cannae take it!” he reasoned.

Once more, Edme glanced back at him, her hair flicking crazily in the wind. Just when Beathan had thought that he had gotten through to her, she turned away, preparing to ride yet faster.

He wasn’t about to let her go without a fight, so he brought the snarling stallion to a charge. Beathan did not know for how long they raced through the fading landscape, through the twilight, and into almost total darkness. All he knew was that time seemed to slow down, the faster he ran. Air whooshed through him, freezing the tips of his fingers in the cold March night.

It might be officially springtime, but it felt like winter as the clouds thickened, and the full blackness of night blew into the glen side.

The sound of hooves were the only thing that Beathan could hear as he followed behind. Once or twice, he had thought he heard her voice, but if he did, it was soon drowned out by the braying of his horse.

Now it was not just hooves; Prince was whinnying, a loud, shrill noise which started in the base of his throat and screeched out into the hillside.

Edme must have heard it; it was so loud. For a second, Beathan thought that he caught her turning around. Excited, he rode closer, trying to get close enough to speak with her.

Then, crash! Everything went black.

“Beathan? Beathan?” a distant voice came to him. All he could remember was shouting, crying as loud as he could for help. But no one was there. The only sound he could hear was her voice as if from far away.

Edme had come over to him. He could sense her getting near. A rush of hooves getting closer, and then she dismounted, running on foot to his side.

“My God, Beathan?” she cried desperately, leaning over him.

Beathan tried hard to raise himself from his sleep, but he could not.

“Beathan, Beathan?” now she was shaking him, gently, on the arm. He could feel the silkiness of her touch, and yet somehow, she felt a hundred miles away.

He could hear the rain rushing down on top of him. The drops were coming down harder now, drenching him completely, soaking his skin from head to toe. The icy cold pervaded him. It should have been enough to bring him around, but it was not.

Now she was shaking him. Holding him by the shoulders and calling out his name.

“Beathan! Beathan! Beathan! Wake up!” she cried.

Beathan tried his hardest to stir himself and answer her. But the best he could do was to manage a muffled “mmm.”

He felt her lifting him, placing his head on one side, as she ran a finger up and down his neck. He wasn’t quite sure what it was that she was looking for, but gradually, underneath his léine, he could feel her hands touching him all over. It took some time for him to realize that she was trying to locate his pulse. The cool of her skin pressed up against him, and just when he thought that she was finished, she leaned in, breathing into him.

But he felt like he was falling, his arms and legs thrashing, trying to find a hold so he could claw his way out of the deep pit he had sunk into. He called out to her, but no sound came. Inside, it was like he was suffocating. Maybe he was already buried somewhere deep underground.

“Beathan, Beathan,” called Edme, her voice all around him. He could not see her but could picture her windswept hair.

“Beathan, wake up!” she yelled, but it sounded as if she were getting further away with every second that passed.

Once again, she put her face to his, breathing into his lungs - just as he had done to her. Then, she stopped and waited, before starting again.

Inside, Beathan was swirling around in what felt like a mass of mud, drowning in the earth; “Edme!” he tried to call, but could not make a sound.

Beathan’s senses cut out, and all he was aware of was her scent, soft and sweet, like lilies. It swarmed all around him, settling into his airways as she breathed for him.

He was not sure how long he lay there, gasping and airless, but when he opened his eyes, the first sight he saw was her face.